"Shall I not weep my heartstrings torn, My flower of love that falls half blown, My youth uncrowned, my life forlorn, A thorny path to walk alone?" O Mary! one who bore thy name, Whose Friend and Master was divine, Sat waiting silent till He came, Bowed down in speechless grief like thine. "Where have ye laid him?" "Come," they say, Pointing to where the loved one slept; Weeping, the sister led the way,-- And, seeing Mary, "Jesus wept." He weeps with thee, with all that mourn, And He shall wipe thy streaming eyes Who knew all sorrows, woman-born,-- Trust in his word; thy dead shall rise! April 15, 1860. MARTHA DIED JANUARY 7, 1861 SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! Her weary hands their labor cease; Good night, poor Martha,--sleep in peace! Toll the bell! Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! For many a year has Martha said, "I'm old and poor,--would I were dead!" Toll the bell! Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! She'll bring no more, by day or night, Her basket full of linen white. Toll the bell! Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! 'T is fitting she should lie below A pure white sheet of drifted snow. Toll the bell! Sexton! Martha's dead and gone; Toll the bell! toll the bell! Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light, Where all the robes are stainless white. Toll the bell! MEETING OF THE ALUMNI OF HARVARD COLLEGE 1857 I THANK you, MR. PRESIDENT, you've kindly broke the ice; Virtue should always be the first,--I 'm only SECOND VICE-- (A vice is something with a screw that's made to hold its jaw Till some old file has played away upon an ancient saw). Sweet brothers by the Mother's side, the babes of days gone by, All nurslings of her Juno breasts whose milk is never dry, We come again, like half-grown boys, and gather at her beck About her knees, and on her lap, and clinging round her neck. We find her at her stately door, and in her ancient chair, Dressed in the robes of red and green she always loved to wear. Her eye has all its radiant youth, her cheek its morning flame; We drop our roses as we go, hers flourish still the same. We have been playing many an hour, and far away we've strayed, Some laughing in the cheerful sun, some lingering in the shade; And some have tired, and laid them down where darker shadows fall, Dear as her loving voice may be, they cannot hear its call. What miles we 've travelled since we shook the dew-drops from our shoes We gathered on this classic green, so famed for heavy dues! How many boys have joined the game, how many slipped away, Since we've been running up and down, and having out our play! One boy at work with book and brief, and one with gown and band, One sailing vessels on the pool, one digging sand, One flying paper kites on change, one planting little pills,-- The seeds of certain annual flowers well known as little bills.